Your Cheatin' Heart
by Panamint
Summary: Here I am again with yet another pathetic attempt at drama. :P Anyway, Dick is 15, it's summer vacation and Bruce has some very interesting news... it's from Dick's POV, so if it gets too sappy, blame him, not the VERY INNOCENT Panamint... :D
1. Chapter 1

**_Part One:_**

**_Your Cheatin' Heart_**

**DISCLAIMER: DC Comics owns them (sadly). Maybe if I asked them nicely, they'd give them to me as a Christmas gift, but I _highly_ doubt that… OY! But Tracie, June and the horsies are MINE! **

**(as if she suddenly thought of it) And Dick is mine, too!… okay, DC Comics, okay. Don't have a cow, I was joking. (police arrive and take her away) HEY, I SAID I WAS JOKING! (police ignore her) WALLY IF THIS IS ANOTHER ONE OF YOUR PRANKS, I'LL MURDER YA! (Wally just snickers and wanders off)**

* * *

"I hate being sick." 

"I know, Master Dick. Open wide, please."

As Alfred stuck the thermometer in my mouth, I couldn't help but think that this was a lousy way to start a vacation. See, school had just let out for the summer, and we always spend the summer months down at Bruce's beach house in Florida. But unfortunately, somebody 'up there' (if you know what I mean) had decided to get my holiday off to a rotten start.

Alfred took the thermometer back and announced that my temperature was about three degrees higher than it should have been.

Well, the afternoon of surfing I had planned was out. Isn't it wonderful to be sick on your first week of summer vacation? And I was finally going to be able to go surfing without Bruce looking over my shoulder every ten seconds, too. Took him long enough. We've been coming here for five years—since I was ten—and he FINALLY trusted me enough to let me go surfing by myself. And then I had to get the _flu_, for crying out loud!

I started to complain about this, but was interrupted by a rather violent coughing fit.

The front door to the house opened and closed. Bruce was back.

"You tell him," I said to Alfred, just before ducking under the covers. Actually, it was kind of steamy and hard to breathe under there, but at least I couldn't see the light flooding in through the windows. That would not only keep me awake, but it would also remind me of all the fun I was missing.

I could hear voices, and then somebody knocked on my blankets. And, incidentally, my head. Which just made the growing headache grow faster.

"Nobody's home!" I grumped.

A hand pulled the covers back. Bruce stood there, holding my blanket, actually looking amused. Well, okay, just a little, but that was a start.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing."

I growled and took my blanket back, promptly replacing it over my head. Just before I began coughing again.

The next thing I knew, it was Alfred who had pulled the covers back. And he was trying to shove some of that practically-deadly cherry-flavored cough medicine down my throat.

"Yuck! Alfred!" I protested, trying to shove that vile stuff away. "I'd rather be shot!"

"_That_ can be arranged," Alfred said dryly.

"_Good!_"

"Master Dick…"

I made a face, but swallowed the poison anyway. Once it was all down, I made an even bigger face.

"That stuff tastes worse than Bruce's coffee. Or whatever he calls it. Because that's not what _I_ call it!"

Another coughing fit saved me from the very long lecture Bruce was undoubtedly going to give me about how I had never actually tasted his (so-called) coffee, respecting your elders and 'when I was your age…'.

Alfred handed me a glass of water, which I took gratefully.

"Just remember—that medicine is going to help you feel better faster," Bruce reminded me. He sat down on the bed as I gave him a ferocious glare over the rim of the glass.

He continued, "And if you don't get better soon, who's going to be my best man?"

It was right around then that the water in my mouth had been sprayed all over the blankets. Then I spent the next five seconds or so coughing and gasping for breath.

"Bruce, I've already got the flu. The last thing I need is a heart attack on top of it!" I fairly yelled, examining the soaked bed coverings. "Now let's take this from the top—I could have sworn you said 'best man'…"

"I did."

"And when you say 'best man', you mean…?"

"That's right, Dick." Bruce gave me one of those weird half-smiles of his. "I'm getting married."

All I could do was stare. Married! What kind of world did _he_ just come back from, the Twilight Zone? He had to be kidding about this… wait… this is Bruce… he never kids.

"You're… you're getting—"

Once again, I was interrupted by that darned cough. Apparently, the medicine hadn't exactly kicked in yet.

Bruce placed a hand on my shoulder and waited for me to get over it. Then he started to talk again, in a slightly gentler tone: "Look, Dick, I know this must come as a bit of a surprise to you—"

"'Surprise'! Bruce, I'm way passed just 'surprise'!" I exclaimed, fighting the urge to cough again. "You never told me you were getting serious about someone. You didn't even tell me you were _seeing_ anyone, for Pete's sake!"

"I know, Dick, but—"

"The _least_ you could have done was_ told _me!" I insisted.

Actually, I was kind of hurt to learn that Bruce hadn't confided in me about this thing. He knew I would have understood, and I felt rather insulted to be left out of such an important matter.

Don't get me wrong, though. I know he has to have his privacy or whatever. But still, when you've been someone's ward for almost six years, you kind of get the feeling that you should be informed when you will be getting a new mother of sorts…

Wait a minute.

A new mother?

I wasn't ready for that!

I turned to Alfred and asked if he had known. My only response was a nod accompanied by the customary, "Yes, Master Dick."

That did it. Now I was mad. How come everybody in the house was aware of what was going on except me? Didn't I count for anything anymore? Or maybe it was because Bruce's fiancée didn't like children—or teenagers, whichever term you want to use—and I was about to be turned over to somebody else? After six years, they were throwing me out like an old shoe?

No, Alfred wouldn't allow that, and neither would Bruce… right?

Before I could say anything about this, someone knocked on my still-open bedroom door. A sweet-sounding feminine voice asked: "May I come in?"

And that was my first glimpse of her—tall, blonde and wearing a riding outfit that looked as if she had been sewn into it. I just hoped she wasn't like all those other empty-headed ding-dongs Bruce had dated in the past.

Perhaps seeing a chance to escape being chewed out by yours truly, Bruce stood up and walked over to the young woman. Then, putting an arm around her shoulders, he introduced her as Tracie Silvers, the future Mrs. Bruce Wayne.

"And Tracie," he continued. "This is my ward, Richard Grayson. But we just call him 'Dick'. Unless he's in trouble, that is…"

"Bruce!" I groaned, embarrassed.

Tracie came forward as if to shake hands, but I told her to keep back unless she liked having the flu. And besides that, I still wasn't overly fond of this marriage idea and didn't want her coming any closer the first time.

"Well, it's been nice meeting you anyway," she said pleasantly. "Are we still going riding, Bruce, or are you going to stay here with Dick?"

"Go ahead," I told him, still not feeling very hospitable towards either of them. "I'll be fine."

Bruce nodded his head reluctantly and followed Tracie out of the room. However, just before he left, he turned around said to me, "We'll be talking some more about this later."

The tone left no room for argument.

However, as things turned out, we never got the chance to talk. Bruce and Tracie were out riding (or something like that) for ages. And by the time they got back, I was already asleep.

The next day, I felt even lousier and was in no mood for talking about anything. But I had long since convinced myself that I was to be turned out as soon as the marriage was over.

* * *

**Me: There you have it, folks. Another lame attempt at drama by yours truly. (rolls eyes) I'll probably be kicking myself in the pants inside a week for posting this, but there you have it. After I post this, I think I'll watch some _Mary Tyler Moore_, so I'll post this quick...**


	2. Chapter 2

**_Your Cheatin' Heart_**

**_Chapter Two_**

**DISCLAIMER: (is looking rather harried because of her recent escape from the police) Okay... I'm back... and I still don't own them... now read... YIPE! (police are back. Panamint starts running madly in the opposite direction)**

**Dick: Okay, now that she's out of the way, we can start the story...**

* * *

By the afternoon the next day, I felt well enough to get out of bed and actually do something. But, more importantly, _Alfred_ felt I was well enough to get out of bed and actually do something. So I did. I went out to the stables, grabbed a brush and began to groom my pinto. His name was Rainforest. Bruce gave him to me on my 14th birthday. 

About halfway through with the brushing, I heard someone enter the stable and stop right in front of Rainforest's stall. It couldn't have been Bruce or Alfred because the steps were too light. The only one left was Tracie. So I ignored her.

However, like most people I don't like, she refused to be ignored.

"Hi," Tracie greeted.

"Hi," I said, not even bothering to turn around and look at her. Anyone responsible for getting me kicked out of my own home was no friend of mine.

"You have a beautiful horse, Dick," she continued. I knew by the way Rainforest tossed his head that she was stroking his nose. "What's her name?"

"It's a he, and his name is Rainforest."

"Oh."

There was a pause. I still refused to look at that woman, and I liked her even less when I realized she was giving me the once-over. If there's one thing I don't like, it's getting the once-over. That and being replaced by some ditzy female. Although Tracie had seemed pretty sane so far…

"You don't like me much, do you?"

Apparently, I was right. She wasn't as much of an idiot as I had expected. Was that good or bad?

Well, since she seemed to have some sort of brain in her blonde head, I decided to be completely honest with her. And so, turning to her with what I hoped was a cold expression, I proclaimed, "No. I don't."

Good, it was out. Unfortunately, Tracie didn't look the least bit upset.

"Why not?" she asked.

I sent another glare in her direction.

"Oh? Isn't it normal not to like the person who's about to get you kicked out of the only home you've known for the past _six years_?" I asked as sarcastically as I could.

"Kicked—!" Tracie opened the stall door and stood next to me even as she continued, "What in the world are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb, you know what!" I shot back angrily.

I stalked over to Rainforest's left side and began brushing there instead. My temper got the best of me a couple of times and I brushed a little too hard, but not enough to really hurt him.

"Dick, I honestly don't know what you mean," Tracie insisted.

"Alright, we'll do it your way. Ever since I was nine, this has been my home. And I like it that way. You may have convinced Bruce that you're some sort of angel, but not me! People have tried to take me away before, but it didn't work—it didn't work then and it certainly won't work now!"

I threw the brush down, startling the poor innocent victim of this disaster, which would be Rainforest. Then I stormed out of the stall.

"Dick!"

Because of Alfred's training, I was too much of a 'young gentleman' to simply tell Tracie to shut up. So I froze and waited for whatever cruel taunts and insults she was about to throw in my face.

"Is that what you think? Do you honestly think that we'd throw you out of your own home?"

She was a good actress, I'll admit. She actually sounded disturbed and incredulous about the idea, as if she never heard something so ridiculous. I wanted to say something really sarcastic about that. However, the training kicked in again and all I could say was "You heard me."

Then Tracie seemed to be struggling for the right words, as if shocked by what she was hearing.

"Dick, we would _never_ do anything like that to you!"

I spun around to face her and retort, "Then why didn't Bruce tell me about you and him? Why didn't he trust me? He always has before!"

"I'm afraid that was my idea," Tracie sighed. "From what Bruce has told me, I figured you were very close and were used to just the two of you living here. I didn't want to cause a rift between you, so I suggested we kept it a secret until we were sure our relationship was going somewhere. That's all."

"Well, it went somewhere alright," I muttered, still not sure what to believe. It sounded plausible, but still…

"Okay, Dick, I know now that it was a bad idea, but I only did it to prevent any petty arguments. You sounded like a level-headed, reasonable boy, but you'd already gone through one major crisis, what with your parents and all, so—"

"Bruce _told _you?"

"He didn't have to—I read the papers six years ago when he took you in."

Right, I knew that. It was blasted all over the front page of every newspaper in the country for at least three weeks. _That _comment really must have made me sound intelligent.

Tracie sighed again.

"Look," she said. "I admit I made a bad choice in keeping our relationship a secret. And I'm sorry. But I did it because I thought it was best for you—for everybody. Please… forgive me."

I crossed my arms and remained silent. In case you haven't noticed, I can be pretty stubborn when I want to be: a trait that Alfred has been trying to remove since the day I arrived. It hasn't worked.

"I really would like to be your friend."

I gave her a look, but said nothing. I was still mulling this over. Was she telling the truth, or was it just another lie?

Tracie's shoulders slumped in resignation.

"Well, I guess I can't _make _you like me… and I guess I have nothing left to say. If you'll excuse me."

And with that, she walked past me and headed out of the stable, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the horses.

Dinner was a silent affair that day. I still wasn't speaking to any of my elders—that included Alfred—for keeping me out of my own life. They seemed to sense that, especially Tracie, and didn't say anything. However, by the next morning, I had decided to buy Tracie's story. After all, Bruce trusted her, so why shouldn't I?

I found Tracie walking along the beach by herself. By the time I caught up with her, she had paused and was gazing out over the open ocean. Without even looking at me, she seemed to detect my presence and said softly, "It's beautiful here, isn't it?"

I followed her gaze. The sun had just barely risen over the horizon and was casting a yellowish glow on the calm ocean waters.

"Yeah," I agreed. There was an awkward pause as I tried to figure out what I was going to say. Making apologies was not my favorite of hobbies, although I knew it was much tougher for Bruce than for me. Still…

"Tracie—" I began.

"Dick," she interrupted. "I know you've come to apologize, but really—I understand. You had every right to act the way you did. I guess I kind of deserved it."

Oh, great. Don't you just hate it when people try to take you on a guilt-trip? It's even worse when they succeed. And she was succeeding.

"Really, I—"

"It's alright, Dick. Really, it's alright."

She smiled at me. I found I couldn't meet her gaze and glanced away, shoving my hands in my pockets, feeling a bit like the nerd that everyone at school considered me to be. Which I'm not. I just happen to know a little about everything and to keep to myself. That does not make me a nerd; that makes me an effective secret crime-fighter… I hope…

Tracie caressed my cheek and gave me a motherly kiss on the forehead. Then she headed back inside the house.

_Women,_ I couldn't help but think.

* * *

**Dick: Pinto? Have you been watching too much _Bonanza_ again?**

**Me: Heck no! I watch just the right amount!**

**Dick: I knew it. That does it-I'm taking your TV into custody.**

**Me: NOOOOOO!**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**Alexnandru Van Gordon-**You're really observant. You know that, don't you? And don't worry, Tracie won't be sticking around very long. Do they ever? ;-)

**Me: Gimme my TV back, ya moron!**

**Dick: You'll never get it back that way, for one thing.**

**Me: BUT "JURASSIC PARK" ****IS ON!**

**Dick: So?**

**Me: Argh!**


	3. Chapter 3

**_Your Cheatin' Heart_**

**_Chapter Three_**

**DISCLAIMER: Hello out there in Internet World, I am your DJ this morning... call me TAP and welcome to radio station BAT-FM! XD This program is brought to you by DC Comics, which owns all of the characters you recognize in this story, and by The Almighty Panamint, who made up the rest. Remember, we do not condone stealing all (or any) of the characters invented by The Almighty Panamint, and doing so could get you fined for up to a million Neopoints so that TAP can get more furniture for her Neohome. And flames are punishable by a two million Neopoint fine. Now let's kick off another fun-filled chapter of this story, and remember to keep it here on BAT-FM! (does live-long-and-prosper thing, ignoring really weird looks from Dick)**

* * *

The next couple of weeks were devoted to planning a wedding I still wasn't quite sure of. Tracie seemed really nice and all that, and she treated me just as if I was her own son. We talked a lot and did a whole bunch of stuff together, like families should. Over time, I forgot my fears entirely and really began to enjoy Tracie's company. Turns out she knew how it felt to lose someone you love, too: her sister, June, was killed in a car accident three years ago. 

"I'm sorry," I had told her. And I really meant it, too.

Tracie had just smiled and said how sweet I was. Then she suggested we go horseback riding and get to know each other a little better. We did a lot together after that.

But for some reason—just for a moment, mind you—I felt rather jealous of Tracie. Bruce was going to _marry_ this woman, to make her his _legal relative._ Now I didn't nor will I ever want to marry Bruce, so just forget that. But if he could make _her_ his legal relative… why didn't he do the same for _me_? We'd known each other for six years; why hadn't he adopted me? I know it sounds weird, but that's what I really wanted.

I knew it was never going to happen, though, so I hastily put the thought out of my head for what I knew wouldn't be the last time.

Now. Back to Tracie.

I remember one evening in particular. The three of us—Bruce, Tracie and I—were hanging around outside. They were talking about what I assumed was nothing in particular; I was riding Rainforest along the shore. I liked the sound his hooves made whenever we ventured into the surf and sprayed water up behind us. That was why I always made very sure that nobody was in back of us when we did that, otherwise I'd be in big trouble and receive nasty looks for a month.

Bruce called to me, so I rode up to the porch and tethered Rainforest to the railing (since Alfred didn't appreciate horses on the porch—I found that out the hard way when I was twelve). Then I went over to stand near my guardian's chair.

"Did you want something?"

"Sit down, Dick."

Noticing that both chairs were taken, I sat on the floor instead.

"Now," Bruce said when he noticed I was settled. "Tracie has been telling me about that conversation you two had in the stable a few weeks ago."

I gave Tracie the most vicious glare I'd ever given anybody in my life. The blonde appeared to be looking at everything under the sun except me.

"Don't blame Tracie—I almost had to wrestle it out of her."

Now that the initial shock was over, I could feel my face flushing tomato-red with humiliation. Why did Bruce have to be such a good detective? I knew I'd never hear the end of this one.

"Look at me, Dick."

Reluctantly, I did so. To my great surprise, there was no anger in his eyes. Just… nothing. Disbelief, maybe. I'd never seen that look before.

"How could you think such thing?" he questioned, sounding like he didn't have the slightest idea how my fifteen-year-old mind worked. _That_ part wasn't new.

"What else was I supposed to think?" I muttered. I dropped my gaze. Or at least, I almost managed to get away with it before Bruce cupped my chin in his strong hand and forced me to look up at him once again.

"Why?" was all he said.

I shrugged. I didn't have a reason he'd accept. And it sounded so darn _ridiculous_ when I said it out loud. Boy, did I feel like an idiot.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, Richard, you aren't leaving my custody until you're eighteen at the very least. Whether you like it or not."

I didn't say anything, still a bit embarrassed. It was good to know I was still wanted, though. But why did I always have to learn these things the hard way?

I turned away. This time, he didn't bug me about it. The sun had set a few minutes earlier, and the half-moon was clearly visible in the darkened sky. The first stars of the night winked at me from above, and I could feel my eyes getting heavy with sleep. Pretty soon, my head was resting against Bruce's lap, and he was gently stroking my hair. Since he'd never even come close to doing anything like that before, I was reasonably shocked at first. I didn't move, though. It reminded me of when my dad would do that after a hard day of trapeze work. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed that… of course, I realized Bruce was probably just doing it to reassure me that I wasn't going anywhere for as long as I wanted. But I still liked it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tracie smiling at the two of us. And I could have sworn that, just for a moment, Alfred was looking at us through the window with a satisfied expression on his face.

* * *

**Me: We apologize for the shortness of this chapter, but we've been having technical difficulties over here lately...**

**Dick: You mean you wanted to leave off on a happy note before the real torture begins.**

**Me: And now we'll take your calls...**

**Dick: You mean do the reviewer replies.**

**Me: The first three callers will receive personalized thank-you notes...**

**Dick: You mean you only got three reviews for this chapter.**

**Me: Everyone please ignore my co-DJ here, he's just here to annoy...**

**Dick: Hey! Just for that, I'm not doing the replies today!**

**(Dick storms out of the room in a huff)**

**Me: (sigh) Okay, I'LL do 'em...**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**lizaln-**Don't worry, no heart attacks here. And you are really good at humor, what's wrong with YOU? ;-) Hehe, thanks for the really nice reviews. I appreciate them.

**Alexnandru Van Gordon-**Never fear, I have never nor will I ever delete a story because of a lack of reviews. Ten per chapter sounds nice, though, LOL...

**perfectdisaster-**Thank you! B)


	4. Chapter 4

**_Your Cheatin' Heart_**

**_Chapter Four_**

**DISCLAIMER: (All that is heard are loud sobs, which plainly tells the reader that The Almighty Panamint is not so fortunate as to own Batman and Robin. But if she did... ;D)**

**Hello, people! XD This chapter is going to be kind of long to a) make up for the last really short one, and b) today is July 17, 2005, the three-year anniversary of the first day that I ever saw _Batman._ (grins uncontrollably) Imagine, I was just innocently channel surfing when I came upon this wonderful (yes, wonderful) show. If it hadn't been for West and Ward, I wouldn't be here typing, because there is no way on this earth that I would have gained an interest in Batman without them. EVER. Yay! (dances)**

* * *

July came, then August. The wedding was scheduled for December—a Christmas wedding. That was Tracie's idea, and I kind of liked it. Maybe it was just because my parents had had a Christmas wedding as well, but I still liked it very much. 

"You'll be here for Christmas, though, right?" I had asked cautiously.

"Of course!" Tracie responded. "We wouldn't dream of spending Christmas without our own son!"

She had given me another little kiss, and I wondered why I had ever doubted her integrity in the first place.

The next day, I was rather crudely remembered of these doubts. I'll never forget it.

It started when I decided to go out for a short ride—Rainforest needed the exercise. The way the house was set up, I had to go by Tracie's room to get outside. Just as I was about to pass without stopping, I realized I could hear voices from inside. It sounded like one of those catfights you always see on TV. I froze just outside the door at the sound of Tracie's voice. She seemed upset:

"Oh, I'm getting so tired of doing this!" Tracie cried passionately. I could hear her stamping a foot in childish annoyance. "I'm tired of the killing and the robbing and the dishonesty…"

"Where is your sense of criminal pride?" huffed a female I didn't recognize. "Where is your sense of fun and adventure?"

"Fun? _Adventure? _June, really!_"_

June? I thought Tracie said her sister had died…

"Yes, fun and adventure! And you used to think it was fun, too!"

There was a silence between the two women. I squirmed uncomfortably, not liking what I was hearing.

"Look, I'll make you a deal," said June at last. "This will be our last job. After all, with the money we get off this loser, we could have more than enough to live off of for the rest of our lives!"

"He's not a loser, he's a wonderful man!" Tracie snapped. "In fact, if I could, I _would_ marry him!"

"Tracie!"

"Well, I would! But… alright. I'll—I'll do it, but then that's it. Do you understand me, June? _That's it!"_

"All I understand is his money, sister. As long as you get him to ride over to Seagull Rock Friday morning so I can shoot him, I don't care."

"Why Friday? Why not tomorrow?"

"You know I always do my best work on Fridays. Which means you've got tonight and tomorrow to think of a way to get him there. Or else."

I heard Tracie opening her bedroom window. Chancing a peek, I saw that she had opened it so that a brown-haired woman could climb out onto the nearby tree limb and get to the ground.

I still couldn't believe this was happening, although—from past experience—I should have guessed something like this would happen.

But… now how was I going to tell Bruce? He'd been happier those past two months than I'd seen him in all six years of my life here. How could I possibly tell him that his fiancée was a scheming little gold digger? Not exactly an inviting notion.

I crept quietly down the hall back to my own room and shut the door soundlessly behind me, feeling sick. There had to be _something _I could do to make this easier. There had to be a loophole _somewhere_ in this disaster. Only, what was it? What was the loophole?

I spent the night tossing and turning, not even trying to go to sleep. Well, except for that one time around midnight, but I woke up about twenty minutes later after a horrible nightmare about Bruce getting shot off his horse, just like the Silvers sisters planned. And even after I woke up, the images kept flashing through my mind, over and over again, making it impossible to sleep.

By morning, the only idea that had presented itself was the one that Bruce would never believe me if I told him the truth about his fiancée. Heck, I barely believed it myself. Tracie had seemed so kind and loving… just the kind of person my mentor needed.

Why did everything always have to go wrong for him, anyway? First his parents, then Selina and now Tracie. What did he ever do to anybody else? Well, except to the people who had it coming to them in the first place. But wasn't it about time that the world threw something _good_ his way? He certainly deserves it. He deserves a good life.

I headed down to the kitchen for breakfast that day, only to find that Alfred and I were all alone in the house. I asked where Bruce and Tracie were, hoping with all my might that Alfred wouldn't notice the hesitation in my voice as I voiced her name aloud.

"I believe they went out to the stables earlier this morning, Master Dick."

"Before breakfast?"

"They _skipped_ breakfast this morning." The disapproval was evident in the "butler's" tone. "And you, young sir, are _not_ about to do the same thing."

"Sure… I'll be right back…"

Before Alfred could protest, I walked hastily out the door. Maybe, if I was lucky enough, the two of them would be back by now. I really needed to talk to Bruce, to warn him.

I stuck my head in the door. There were Bruce and Tracie, unsaddling their horses. The urge to storm in there and take her over my knee was quite strong, but that wouldn't do much good, now would it? And besides, if I did, I'd probably end up over Bruce's knee next. I've been there—not fun.

"…Bruce? Can I talk to you?" I said instead.

"Sure, go ahead."

"_Alone?"_

If it's possible to look confused without moving a muscle, Bruce did it. Nevertheless, he turned to the plainly-bemused Tracie and said that he'd meet her inside. They kissed, making me feel even sicker than before, and she headed into the house.

"Alright, Dick, what is it?" he asked. "You feel okay? Your face is still kind of pale."

"Um, I'm fine." Not. "It's just that… well…"

How do you like that? I hadn't even said anything yet and I was already having second thoughts about this. What was I supposed to do, tell him his girlfriend was a killer? Yeah, that shows you how much of a brain I've got. You'd think I would have learned something from my five years as a crime-fighter.

So I wound up just muttering "Never mind" and leaving the stables with my head down and my hands in my pockets.

After breakfast, I went up to my room to think. No ideas came, so after lunch, I spent the next few hours sitting on the rocks near the house that jutted out into open ocean. I called them the Sunset Rocks, because you got such a good view of the sunset from out there.

It was nice out on the rocks, listening to the sea gulls crying and the waves lapping against the shore. A strong, salty sea breeze picked up, waving my hair around, making me glad that Alfred wasn't there to see how badly I needed a haircut. Although I think I heard him muttering something about Davy Jones look-alikes a couple of days ago…

…A couple of days ago, everything had been perfect. Tracie and I had even gone surfing that day. I had been so surprised when I saw what a great surfer she was—she even gave _me_ a couple of pointers. But now I could barely even stand to look at her.

The sound of laughter interrupted my rather depressing thoughts. I turned to see Bruce and Tracie walking along the beach. True, she was the one doing most of the laughing, but Bruce looked as if a huge weight had just been lifted off his shoulders, too.

I gazed at them wistfully before going back to staring into the sunset. What was there left to do? I couldn't tell him, and Bruce would be killed tomorrow morning. Tomorrow morning and June would kill my mentor… and my father.

Finally, just before Alfred called me in for dinner, I realized what I had to do. I had found my loophole. I just wished it involved me getting back to Wayne Manor safe and sound. But that was impossible—everything else had failed.

Nobody would ever know. And then Bruce and Tracie could get married, June would have her money and everybody would be happy. Sure, Bruce wouldn't be exactly thrilled with the loss of the money in his wall safe, but at least he'd have Tracie. Yup, my plan was foolproof. I'd taken everything into account and everything would work out just fine. Except for me, but I'd be dead. So did it really matter?

I couldn't bring myself to eat much at dinner (so much for 'the condemned will eat a hearty meal'.) And when Tracie asked what was wrong, I nearly lost my temper and spilled her secret right there. But I didn't. See, Bruce? I _can_ hold my tongue. When it counts.

—

Just after dinner, Bruce sent me up to my room to do a little studying so that I wouldn't forget everything by the time September rolled around. Although I went up, I had much more important things to do than worry about algebra homework. And so, being very careful not to make any noise, I opened my bedroom window and used the rain gutter to help myself get to the ground without breaking anything (including me). Then I headed off to the cliffs. June had to be hiding around there somewhere. If I could just find her, maybe I could strike a deal with her. The way I intended.

I began my search near the cliffs by the ocean. It seemed like as a good a place as any for a criminal to hide out. And believe me—I know criminals.

"Well, hello there."

I whipped around and saw a dark-haired young woman in jeans and a nearly see-through shirt. I could feel my face heating up and tried not to stare. Not because of the shirt, but because I recognized the brunette as Tracie's supposedly dead sister June.

"You're a little young to be out alone so late, aren't you?" she asked. "What are you, twelve? Thirteen, maybe?"

_Oh, brother,_ I thought, more than a little insulted. _Try fifteen, lady._

Somehow, I managed to look her straight in the eye and say darkly, "I know who you are. And I know you're here to kill my father. Don't bother trying to deny it, either—I saw you talking with Tracie this afternoon."

Her smile faltered.

"What do you want?"

"I'm here to make sure you get away with it. In a different way."

June gave me a look. Suspicion was evident in her hazel eyes and I wondered whether she would even let me explain or if she'd just kill me instead.

"Follow me," she said.

So I did. Probably not the most intelligent thing to do, but I didn't feel as if I really had a choice.

She led me away from the shore and towards a small rock overhang jutting out from the cliff. Underneath the overhang was what appeared to be a shadow. It turned out to be a small cave instead. June headed inside and I continued to follow her.

It was quite a well-furnished little place. A cot was in the corner and there was evidence of a recently-extinguished fire in the middle. Cooking utensils hung from nails on the wall. Clothes lay folded under them and a small supply of food was stashed nearby. It was one of the best hide-outs I'd ever seen—not at all high-tech, but very secluded and well-stocked, too. It also creeped the heck out of me, which helped to give it a high rating on my 'Best Hide-Out' list.

"Now why are you going to help me kill Wayne? You just called him your father, even if he isn't, so you apparently think pretty highly of him."

Had I really said that? Oops. Must have been a slip on my part. And I have to admit, it's not the first time that it's happened. Usually I call him that when I'm scared, which I definitely was then. I've really got to knock it off. It's embarrassing.

"I don't want you to kill him," I answered. "That's why I'm here."

"You aren't making any sense. Better start making some or I'll do away with you right here and now."

"That was my intention."

June blinked. She obviously hadn't been prepared for that answer. I couldn't help but smirk grimly at her reaction. I felt very much like the Batman as I did so.

"I _want_ you to kill me," I continued. "Do whatever you want with me… just don't hurt Bruce."

June began circling me like a vulture.

"You know, I just don't get your kind," she said, folding her hands behind her back and continuing her vulture-like march. "So caring, so emotional. Just like that sister of mine up at the house. Tell me: are all people with baby-blue eyes so willing to give their lives for their families?"

She held my chin in her hands to gaze into my very blue eyes. I just stood there as she stared at me, determined not to do anything that would ruin my plans.

June snickered slightly and let go of me.

"Ya know, Blue Eyes," she continued. "You really _are_ a good-looking kid. Are you sure you want to do this? I'm sure a lot of pretty girls will be very disappointed."

"I didn't come here to discuss myself." Besides that, I didn't have a girlfriend. "Now is it a deal or not?"

The woman snickered again, crossed her arms and ran her tongue over her upper teeth. I was so worried that she'd say no and kill the both of us. Or maybe she'd say yes and then kill Bruce anyway. But I'd have to trust her, no matter what she said. I didn't like that feeling. At all.

"Okay, Blue Eyes, okay," June announced. "Be at Seagull Rock at six tomorrow morning. Then, while they're all at your funeral, we'll take the money and scram."

"_Without_ _hurting Bruce_."

"Sure, Blue Eyes. Whatever you say."

She held out a slender hand for me to shake. I couldn't believe I was about to make a deal with a no-good murderer like June Silvers—it might as well have been the devil himself as far as I was concerned. But if it _had _come to striking a bargain with Satan to save Bruce's life, I would have done that, too. And so, I placed my own hand in June's larger one and shook it.

It was done.

* * *

**Me: Yeah... hehe... I suppose Dick could have just gotten into his Robin costume and exposed Tracie and June that way or whatever, but that's not as much fun. Let's just say that he wasn't thinking straight at the time.**

**Dick: (sourly) You're a fine one to talk about not thinking straight! And where did that 'the condemned will eat a hearty meal' bit come from anyway? You don't read THAT much.**

**Me: I just finished The Picture of Dorian Gray, didn't I?**

**Dick: Only because you had to for English! Now where did it come from?**

**Me: Uh... _Gilligan's Island?_**

**Dick: Case closed.**

**Me: I know something else I'd like closed: your mouth!**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**lizaln-**Okay, well, we just started the emotional torture. The physical stuff is coming up pretty soon (as you can imagine). Thanks for reviewing, and have a great vacation!

**Alexnandru Van Gordon-**Oh, no. Nobody gets killed here, not even the villains. Although I'd kind of like to kill Panamint once in a while... ah-hem... and yes, Bruce does have bad luck with women, doesn't he? ;-)

**Amaran Barrantes-**Wait no longer! Here it is! Glad you like Panamint's stories.

**Me: Oh, yeah, and where I mentioned Selina (Kyle), I was referring to something that I referred to in my other ficcie "Misfit", but please don't read that one. I just reread it myself and realized how terrible it was: I literally cringed at certain parts. Can't believe I posted it...**

**Dick: Finally, you're coming to your senses!**

**Me: Do you want more Robin-torture in this fic? Cuz you're askin' for it, dude...**


	5. Chapter 5

**_Your Cheatin' Heart_**

**_Chapter Five_**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters (except the Silvers sisters and the horses) in this story. And I also changed the rating from G to PG because somebody gets shot (gee, I wonder who). It's not like there's a ton of blood or cuss words or anything-I just upped the rating to make sure that nobody could report me. I've been reported before, and it's definitely NOT fun! XP**

**Oh, yeah... and somewhere in here, I think I stole a line from the original "Little Women" movie... I'll check and identify it later.**

* * *

I got back to the house at around nine-thirty and went to bed at ten. When Bruce came in to say good-night, I couldn't help but wonder what would become of him after I died. Sure, he and Tracie would become Mr. and Mrs., but would they be happy together after all, or would my sacrifice be for nothing? Would they ever have any children? More importantly, would anyone ever discover who had killed me? Boy was that an awkward sentence… I hoped they wouldn't. 

"Are you sure you're alright, Dick?"

I gave myself a mental headshake and tried to pay attention to what he was saying.

"Huh?"

"I asked if you were alright."

"Oh, um, sure. Why do you ask?" I regretted it at soon as I said it.

"I don't know. It's just that you've seemed kind of upset all day. Distracted, you know…"

I made an attempt to smile. "Don't worry, Bruce. I'm fine."

He said good-night and ruffled my hair, like when I was little, and stood up to leave. That's not to say that I wasn't little at 15, either. Actually, I was—and still am—on the shrimpy side, as is evident by June mistakenly calling me a thirteen-year-old, but…

Suddenly, I remembered—this would be the last time I'd ever see him in this world.

"Bruce!" I cried in sudden panic.

"What?"

"I…" Taking a deep breath, I said softly, "Good-bye, Bruce."

He gazed at me quizzically, but said good-night once again and left without saying anything else.

—

Early (_very_ early) the next morning, I awoke to the sound of my alarm clock. I slammed the button before it could wake anyone else up, got dressed and checked out the window. The sun was just beginning to peek out over the horizon, spreading weak rays of yellow light across the pale blue sky.

I headed out to the stable and took my pinto out of his stall. I was in such a hurry that I forgot to saddle the poor guy. If I were going to live through this, I would have said Bruce and Alfred would kill me.

Bruce… Alfred… I knew I'd miss them, even in Heaven. Or wherever I was going.

I took one last look around the stable before mounting Rainforest, digging my heels into his sides and galloping off for Seagull Rock in the early morning light.

Halfway there, it finally hit me what I was doing, but it was too late to go back—even if I wanted to. I always knew that I'd give my life for Bruce if I had to, but who knew I'd ever actually have to do it?

When I got to the Rock, I spotted that old tree trunk. Ever since I came here for the very first time—when I was ten—I've loved jumping that log. I don't know what it is about it, but jumping the log has always been my favorite part of vacationing here. Maybe because it reminded me of flying through the air, like when I'd switch from Dad's hands to Mom's on the trapeze.

I paused a few yards in front of the tree, glancing around. Saying good-bye to everything, I guess. Actually, I was kind of surprised to find that June didn't shoot me while I was standing perfectly still like that. I certainly would have made for an easy target.

But, she didn't. Maybe that spot was at a bad angle for her. So I nudged Rainforest forward.

He knew exactly what to do. I'd made this jump with him at least a million times before. Maybe I was just imagining things, but he seemed to enjoy jumping as much as I did. I doubted if _he'd_ ever been on a trapeze, though.

The tree loomed nearer. I had the terrible feeling that this was the end. It was the only time I could ever remember being afraid of making that jump.

Closer…

Come on, there's nothing to be afraid of…

Closer…

Closer…

You can do this…

Rainforest's front legs left the ground, then his hind legs. The old familiar feeling of flight washed over me, and I almost thought that I was actually going to make it.

There was a shot, a white-hot flash of pain and everything went dark.

* * *

**Me: No! Dick! Waaaaaaahhh!**

**(cowers under the chair)**

**Me: (peeking out from under chair) Oh, and the 'I knew I'd miss them, even in heaven' WAS from the original "Little Women". It was just before Beth dies. I thought it sounded good, so I decided to use it. Okay, Dick, do the replies.**

**Dick: (sarcastically) How? I'm dead, remember?**

**Me: No, not yet, but you WILL be if you don't do the replies!**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**a 60's tv fan-**You're welcome. And here's the update. 8)

**Alexnandru Van Gordon-**I think you'll like the ending. A lot. Incidentally, what IS your idea of a happy ending? ;-)

**Herald Tamara-**I know somebody else who isn't happy about it-me. I don't know why Panamint thinks torturing her Muses is FUN... anyway, thanks for reviewing and we hope you like this chapter more than I did.

**60's bat-fan-**Yes! A supporter! Thank you! You have no idea how much I appreciate this, especially with this nutcase Panamint around.

**Mysterious Jedi-**Well, here's 'more'. Enjoy! XD

**kokomocalifornia-**Glad you liked it, although I wouldn't call it interesting. I'd call it dangerous. But that's just me.

**lizaln-**Yes, well, when she said it was 'fun', she meant fun for HER. She likes making her Muses suffer for some reason. And that was a very interesting option you thought of-Panamint didn't even think of that! Thank goodness...


	6. Chapter 6

**_Your Cheatin' Heart_**

**_Chapter Six_**

**DISCLAIMER: Nope, no way, not mine. How different (and better!) it would be if they were... but DC Comics would probably hate me more than they already do, so... blah. XP**

**Oh. And I sincerely apologize for any mistakes I made with the medical and/or attorney stuff in these next few chapters. I'm not exactly an expert on these subjects, nor do I have much time for research, so there may be several noticable discrepencies (sp?) in here. Or whatever. Anybody who cares to (NICELY) correct me is more than welcome. I'll probably leave it the way it is anyway, unless the real way would make the road a little bumpier for Dick, (hehehe...) but I really would like to hear what you have to say on the subject(s).**

* * *

I don't know how long I was out, but I vaguely remember someone picking me up and carrying me somewhere. I'm not exactly sure who it was. Probably Bruce. 

Anyway, it's pretty tough to recollect what happened (hey, give me a break—I was barely half-conscious at the time). I must have managed to say something, because whoever it was told me to keep quiet and just take it easy. Then there was what I thought was quite a violent jerk and I was once again dead to the world.

I spent the next few days in the hospital on some sort of life support system. Because the bullet had gotten so close to my heart, they thought I was beyond all hope more than once. That kind of freaked everybody out—the doctors said it, I didn't—but somehow I always managed to bounce back into a somewhat stable condition. I'd lost quite a bit of weight though.

The only part of my stay in the hospital that isn't hopelessly blurred was the day when I was actually awake and coherent. First thing that came to my attention was the fact that my left arm was in a sling. I had had those before. Not fun.

Bruce was there, along with a nurse who was doing… something. But when she saw that I was awake, she picked a glass up off the nightstand and tried to shove the contents down my throat.

Okay, don't panic, I didn't mean it literally, but it smelled so bad that that's what it seemed like. I would have put up a fight, but I couldn't find the strength to do it. So I wound up having to choke down every last drop of that stuff. I'm still not sure what it was, but I won't mind if I never find out.

After she took the glass away, all I could manage to do was make a sour face and mumble "Tastes like swamp water" under my breath.

"I heard that," the nurse interjected.

"Well, it does," I insisted. I didn't care whether she had been serious or whether she was just playing around with me, but I wasn't in the mood for it either way—I still felt lousy. And I wanted to go home.

The nurse left, taking the glass with her.

That was when I noticed Bruce was looking at me strangely.

"Well it _did,_" I grumbled tiredly.

"I'm sure it did," was the reply.

Even though I was in the hospital with buckshot in my shoulder, I know there is something seriously wrong when Bruce and I agree on something. Or rather, when Bruce agrees with me.

I gave him an odd look, but when he made no move to explain, I decided to ask what had happened.

Bruce just continued to stare at me. I shuddered involuntarily.

"You knew, didn't you?" he asked in that low, menacing, Batman-type voice of his.

"Knew what?" I whispered, closing my eyes. I wasn't in any mood for his little word games either, especially because that whatever-it-was the nurse had given me was shutting my brain down.

"You knew what was going to happen by riding around Seagull Rock at six in the morning."

That should have been a warning signal for me to keep my mouth shut, and if I wasn't in the hospital, I would have. Unfortunately for me, I _was_ in the hospital, and my brain was still rather fuzzy, so I began rambling:

"Yeah, I overheard them talking about taking your money while ev'ryone wassat th' funeral r somethin'…"

Well, there went my ability to talk like a human being—I sounded like I was drunk.

My hearing was beginning to deteriorate as well. All of Bruce's words after that seemed so blurry that it was almost impossible to understand what he had said. I think it was something like "So you were deliberately going to let Tracie and June get away with murder?" Maybe it was just the ever-increasing fuzziness of my head, but Bruce sounded a bit ticked off.

"Yeah…" I slurred. Yes, I know, stupid thing to say, but what did you expect? "Had too… tried… couldn' tell you… wan'ed you to be…"

Before I could finish, that nurse came back. With a needle. A _really_ _sharp_ needle.

"Oh, no, you don'!" I protested. Now that I think about it, it was a rather weak protestation, barely above a whisper, but it was the best I could do. As you can guess, it didn't work, and I wound up with that needle in my arm anyway. Whether because of the drink or the shot, I don't know, but within seconds, I was back in dreamland.

And that was how the next week went—I spent most of my time sleeping (either from exhaustion or from the drugs the doctors forced me to take) although I did wake up and talk to people once in a while. However, I noticed that Bruce was never there, and nobody would tell me where he had disappeared to.

Pretty soon, I had woken up enough to remember what had been said that day and to realize what the effect of my words must have been. Just the thought of my grave mistake was enough to make my stomach churn. How could I have been such an idiot? 'Loose lips sink ships' and all that. And at the time, it looked as if my ship was definitely sunk.

There was a quiet knock at the door. I said come in, trying not to let my voice tremble as I sat up shakily.

In walked some guy I didn't know. He was middle-aged with graying hair and dark eyes, looking very official in that very expensive suit of his. I guessed he was a lawyer or something. Maybe he was mine.

Oh no, I forgot! The trial was coming up… definitely _not_ something I was looking forward to.

That nurse was with him, too. Luckily, she didn't have any needles or nasty-looking drinks this time. She just kept giving the guy really mean looks. I wondered why.

"You're Richard Grayson, is that correct?" the man asked.

"Yes…" I answered cautiously.

"Well my name is Gary Landon and I will be representing you in the trial Thursday afternoon."

Thursday afternoon! That was the day after tomorrow!

"He can't go!" the nurse grumped. "He's just barely out of the sling—he's liable to reopen the wound and bleed to death right there on the stand. It won't take much to do it, either."

Yet another good reason for me not to appear in court.

Landon looked peeved. "Can he at least answer some questions to help strengthen our case?"

Still looking pretty annoyed herself, the nurse mumbled her consent and left the room. I could tell she wanted to slam that door with all her might, but didn't for fear of disturbing other patients.

Landon turned to me (after muttering some not-so-G-rated words at the nurse's back) and asked a few questions about what had happened at Seagull Rock that day. I told him everything I knew about it—including the fact that I had arranged the shooting, but I made very sure that I explained exactly why I had done it. It was embarrassing, really, but it was better than getting accused of aiding and abetting a crook. Although, according to Landon, this was still a possibility. I hoped the judge would be in a good mood on the day of the trial—last thing I needed was a charge like that hanging over my head. Bruce and Alfred would absolutely _kill_ me…

An hour later, the man gathered his papers, stuck them in his suitcase and stood up.

"I'll be seeing you the day after tomorrow then," he said as we shook hands.

I blinked. "…We will?"

"For the trial of course."

"But… the nurse said—"

"Oh, come now. I'm sure you're not worried about something that probably won't even happen, are you?" Landon said with a laugh.

Actually, yes, I was. Bleeding to death is not exactly my cup of tea. I don't even like tea. But I supposed that I would need to be there and give my testimony at the trial.

Slowly, I shook my head.

"I'll be there," I told him. As he left, I got this awful sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach—the kind of feeling I always get after I know I've done something wrong.

* * *

**Me: REVIEWS! (dances around the room, hugging all of her reviews)**

**Dick: What's wrong with you? I mean, there's always something wrong with you, but this time there's something extra-wrong...**

**Me: I got ELEVEN WONDERFUL REVIEWS for just ONE LITTLE CHAPTER! Life rocks! XD**

**Dick: Not for me, I've got to do the replies!**

**Me: Right! Get to it, Bird Boy!**

**Dick: HEY!**

**Me: (turns the Bee Gees up on her radio full-blast, deafening Dick into submission like in that Catwoman episode with the giant water faucet)**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**60's bat-fan-**Those are very good words! Especially those first five! VERY good words: I'll write them down and stick them on the wall somewhere in Panamint's room so she doesn't forget...

**lizaln-**...I don't know whether to say 'thank you' or to go to my room and mope the rest of the day! But, because Panamint is glaring warningly at me, I think I'd better just stick with the thank you. ;-)

**Silentia-**Thank you very much, those were very nice compliments. Panamint likes hearing things like that: they encourage her. 8)

**Onthnis-**Well, she tries (and is succeeding, apparently...). Thanks for stopping by: she always likes to see a new name in the reviewer list.

**Mysterious Jedi-**I agree with you whole-heartedly on the comfort part. And we'll be getting to that fairly quickly... I hope...

**Alexnandru Van Gordon-**123 e-mails? You must be one heck of a popular guy! And Panamint will try to deliver a nice little ending for you (and, hopefully, for me too!)

**bataholic crazy teen-**Panamint is really glad you like the story. I hate cliffhangers too, especially when we leave off with me in extreme danger! It's just evil, I tell you...

**kokomocalifornia-**Kokomo is her favorite Beach Boys' song. And I'm sure she will agree with you one-hundred percent on it being a good place to leave off on. As for me... well... :-P

**Zarz-**You're right, it would make more sense. But I guess each crook has his/her own way of doing things, and apparently, this is the way the Silvers' sisters operate. And she thanks you for thinking she's good at drama, btw. XD

**Chapstick23-**She's continuing, she's continuing! ;-)

**Mrs. Hermione Potter-**Thank you! She tries to update every week or so, but lately, it's been hard... she says she's busy, but I think she's just lazy...


	7. Chapter 7

**_Your Cheatin' Heart_**

**_Chapter Seven_**

**DISCLAIMER: Nope, no way. I wish I could think up new ways to do a disclaimer, but I've been doing it for almost a year now: what do you want from me? (it's true, August 30 with be my one-year anniversary of signing up with this site. Not necessarily the anniversary of POSTING, but SIGNING UP, yes).**

**...I'm hoping this chapter isn't too sappy for you. I have a tendency to get overly sentimental with these kinds of things, and if this chapter is too sappy for you, then please, _DON'T READ THE NEXT ONE EITHER!_ It's way sappier than this one, believe me. At least, I hope it's softer, but not just plain soft... you understand? Good, neither do I.**

* * *

The day of the trial arrived, and I had yet to see Bruce anywhere. Only Alfred came to see me, but no Bruce. I was beginning to think he was avoiding me on purpose. 

"I really wish you wouldn't do this, Master Dick," Alfred pleaded for what seemed like the millionth time.

He handed me my coat anyway.

"I'm fine. For real."

The coat brushed against a part of my shoulder that was still sore. I winced. Alfred gave me one of his patented 'You were saying?' looks.

"I'll be alright," I insisted. Very carefully, I finished putting the suit on and left the room. I could practically _smell_ Alfred's disapproval as we headed out of the hospital and into the car. But he said nothing else about it and we had soon arrived at the courthouse.

I noticed that Bruce was waiting for us on the front steps. As soon as he saw that we had gotten there in one piece, he disappeared inside. I was stunned. I knew he must be angry because of what Tracie and June had tried to do, but why was he taking it out on me?

Upon saying as much to Alfred, I got a reply I really wished I hadn't asked for: "Master Bruce believes that you allowed yourself to be shot to protect Miss Tracie, young master."

"He thinks I _WHAT!_" I cried. If I had been stunned before, I was downright horrified now. "But… but June… she… I… you don't believe that, do you, Alfred?"

"Of course not, Master Dick," was the prompt reply. "I know you did what you did to protect Master Bruce, not to deliberately aide the Silvers sisters. That just happened to be a rather unpleasant string attached to the deal you made. But with the shock of Miss Tracie's confession, immediately followed by finding you half-dead on the beach—he merely jumped to his own conclusion, and you know how stubborn Master Bruce can be once he gets a notion settled into his head."

Pause.

"You know, sir… we came dangerously close to losing you many a time over the past couple of weeks. And I think that is what has upset him most."

Another pause as I tried to absorb all this new information. Bruce thought I'd get myself killed to protect a woman I barely even knew? Usually he's an exceedingly intelligent person, but I couldn't help but think that this was a rather boneheaded thing to accept as fact.

"But Bruce was never at the hospital except for that one time. So how—?" I began.

"I'm afraid you're wrong, Master Dick," Alfred answered, shaking his head. "He was there constantly those first few days. Watching you, talking to you, holding your hand…"

"Talk about your basic out-of-character moments," I mumbled. That didn't sound like the hard, practically-emotionless Bruce I knew at all! I regretted not being awake to see _that._ Then again, if I had been awake, he probably wouldn't have done it.

By that time, we had almost reached the top of the stairs of the courthouse (that's one thing I've noticed without fail: all government buildings always have an excessive number of steps). There was still one thing I needed to know, though.

"How did Tracie find out about what June and I had planned?"

"Don't you mean what _you_ planned, Master Dick?" Alfred corrected gently. I turned a little pink and nodded in agreement.

"I'm not entirely sure. However, according to Miss Tracie, her sister had informed her of the change in plans. Or rather, partially informed her. If she had told Miss Tracie everything, then Master Bruce would understand what really occurred that day."

"It still doesn't make sense," I insisted. "I overheard the Silvers sisters talking the other day, and Tracie said that if she could, she would have married Bruce. With me out of the way, she could have had him. Why would she ruin it all?"

"A guilty conscience, I suppose. Or perhaps she loved him enough to give him back what he cared for most—_his son._"

—

While I was waiting for my turn at the stand, I couldn't stop squirming. I'd been in courtrooms before, but murder trials are very different from the custody hearings I was used to. It was a bit nerve-wracking, especially because I already knew what the results were going to be—Tracie and June were going to jail. Unless somebody bribed the jury… oh great. I was getting as paranoid as Bruce. Not good.

For what seemed like the umpteenth time since we had been sitting there, I leaned over in my chair and hissed in Bruce's ear, "Look, just listen to me! I_ did not_—!"

"Richard Grayson will now take the stand."

Actually, I felt as if I'd rather be locked in the tiger cage in the zoo. But since there were no tiger cages in sight, I had no choice but to get up on that stand and spill my guts.

"Were you aware of the fact that the defendants had committed crimes in the past?"

"Yes, sir."

Halfway through with the questioning, I felt this nagging pain in my shoulder. Sort of like the way your arm feels after you get a vaccination at the doctor's office. I tried to ignore it and answer the questions as best I could.

"And did you know that June Silvers was at Seagull Rock the day you went riding there?"

"Yes, sir. I planned it."

Murmurs, mutterings, surprised expressions from the jury.

But the annoying little ache refused to go away. If anything, it just kept getting more annoying. I gripped the arms of the chair as tightly as I could to keep from interrupting the trial. It was hard enough to condemn Tracie without prolonging it, and I could only imagine what Bruce was thinking…

"Now, Richard, why don't you tell the jury exactly why you did it?"

"I—"

Suddenly, my whole shoulder felt as if it would explode. It was that bad. Too bad to hide any longer.

I let out a cry and fell out of the chair onto my knees, clutching my shoulder.

I could hear people murmuring, and footsteps, but they sounded so far away. Someone was trying to talk to me, but the pain—correction, _agony_—was quickly consuming my thoughts and I couldn't answer.

Everything began to fade and eventually, all was black.

* * *

**Dick: You like doing this to me, don't you?**

**Me: (maniacal laughter)**

**Dick: (sourly) I'll take that as a yes.**

**Me: Hey, you should be flattered! The more I torture a Muse, the more I like him/her. And since you're my all-time most tortured Muse, you're my favorite!**

**Dick: That sounds like pretty screwy logic to me, TAP.**

**Me: What'd you expect? Mr. Spock?**

**Spock: Yes?**

**Dick: Oh, great, you just HAD to bring him into this, didn't you?**

**Me: Hehe...**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**Herald Tamara-**Thank you for the compliment and... Death fic? Yikes, I never thought this could be a death fic! Now you've got me worried! I'll have to go ask Panamint what her plans are for this.

**Alexnandru Van Gordon-**Hopefully, this chapter helped to explain how TAP's warped mind works. But I will agree with you on one point-as long as I don't get charged with anything, I don't really care WHAT happens!... I'm going to regret that comment, I just know it... XP

**Mysterious Jedi-**Thanks, it was nice of you to say that! And life is definitely not fair... of course, it gets even LESS fair with a meanie like Panamint around.

**Mrs. Hermione Potter-**The ending shouldn't be too far away now. At least, I hope not. And she'll keep it up for as long as she can, believe me...

**mee-**That's definitely more than okay. Panamint NEEDS to be rushed. Especially with this week's little 'delay'... glad you liked the story, though.

**60's-bat-fan-**Mind? I'd be delighted! You know, that's the second time this month that somebody has asked me to hit the author... I think the reviewers are beginning to get smart! And I'm glad I'm alive, too, thank you very much.

**Onthnis-**Very sorry for the delay, then, since you seem to like it so much. I hope you were able to survive well enough without a new chapter for two whole weeks, haha. ;-)

**kokomocalifornia-**All of her stories? Wow! It looks like Panamint has gotten herself another fan, although how anybody can put up with her stuff is beyond my level of comprehension. Really. 8)


	8. Chapter 8

**_Your Cheatin' Heart_**

**_Chapter Eight_**

**DISCLAIMER: I hate disclaimers. However, I suppose that they are a necessary evil in our lives to keep the lawyers from going bananas. Sooooooo I DON'T OWN THEM. Happy now?**

**WARNING: Sappy dialogue ahead! However, I sort of (ah-hem) accidentally did it on purpose, if you know what I mean. And if you don't know what I mean, you'll find out in this chapter. I'm hoping it isn't as bad as I think it is, but hey... you never know...**

* * *

When I woke up again, I was in my own bed at the beach house with my shirt off and that stupid sling back on my arm. It just wasn't my day. 

Funny thing, though, I was still in the pants I had worn to court—it must have been just a few hours since my collapse. My shoulder was still a bit sore, but not half as bad as before. Bruce was sitting in a chair next to the bed, watching me. When he noticed I was awake, he asked how I felt.

"I'm fine," I sighed. "I'd like to know what happened, though."

"The doctors_ said_ you weren't ready to get out of bed yet, remember? You must have moved the wrong way and aggravated the wound."

That must have been some aggravation.

It was probably all the squirming I did.

"That's it?"

"Yes," was the rather short reply. Then he stood up and walked over to the big bay windows. I propped myself up on my right elbow to see what he was doing. Not much, as things turned out. All he seemed to be doing was staring out the window. There was something a bit off here, I just knew it. Bruce always stares out the window when something's off.

"Is there something wrong?" I asked. "You've barely even spoken to me for days. Did I do something?"

He turned away from the window to glare at me. I knew right then that I was in hot water. Why? I didn't know. I hadn't set anything on fire within the past week, so…

"You knew," he said. "You knew and you didn't even tell me."

Great. Back to that stupid shtick again. I could feel my temper rising, and my shoulder wasn't helping my mood any, either.

"I _tried _to tell you! That day in the stable, remember?" I spat. "You wouldn't have believed me anyway… so what was I supposed to do?"

"_Anything_ but what you did!" I had gotten him mad. Wonderful. "Running off without a word, knowing your chances of coming back were next to none… what were you thinking? Did it ever occur to you that I just might like to know what was going on in my life?"

I was stunned, and although I really felt like saying "Turnabout is fair play", all I could manage to choke out was:

"Well there's gratitude for you!"

"Gratitude? For what? You getting yourself shot to protect a couple of murderers?" he growled.

"You think I did it just to protect those two? Well, I didn't! I planned all that because I wanted you to be—"

I guess I must have 'aggravated the wound' again, because I found myself lying back, clutching my shoulder. Again. At least the pain wasn't as bad as before so I could register the fact that Bruce was sitting next to me.

I tried to finish my speech. I had to get it out. And besides that, it would be harder for Bruce to yell at me if I was hurting:

"You were so happy with Tracie…" I choked out. "Happier than I'd ever seen you. I thought… I thought maybe if June killed me instead of you, nobody would ever know… and you could continue being happy…"

Cheesy, yes, but that's what I said. Embarrassingly enough.

I continued: "The night before… I went over to the cliffs and met up with her… I made her promise not to… not to kill you… to take me instead… now I _know_ it was a dumb thing to do, and I_ know_ I shouldn't have trusted her, but… what else was I…"

The pain, emotions and stress of the past few weeks finally got to me. As much as I hate to admit it, I began crying. It must have been an awkward situation for Bruce, since he had always let Alfred handle the emotional aspects of my upbringing, but I couldn't control myself. I had had it; I was completely burnt out.

Bruce started to stroke my hair a little. In an attempt to calm me down, I guess.

"Dick," he said gently (gently for him, anyway). "Didn't you even stop to think what effects _your_ death would have had if June had succeeded?"

"…No…"

It sounded stupid, even to my own ears, but I really hadn't. I guess my plan hadn't been as foolproof as I had thought. But I was just his ward. I couldn't be as important as Tracie… right?… darn it, what had he gone and messed me up for? I was so sure a minute ago!

"Well, next time, I think you'd better rethink any plans you have to get yourself killed."

Wow. Bruce hadn't said anything that nice to me since I was nine. It wasn't so much _what_ he said; it was more like _how_ he said it. And I really liked the way he had said it.

"Are you serious?" I asked, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.

"Would I lie about a thing like that?"

I smiled a little. "No. I guess not."

"Okay then." He ruffled my hair. "Try to get some rest, alright?"

I nodded and closed my eyes. But there was just one thing I needed to ask before we put that little matter to rest.

"Bruce?" I said, opening my eyes again.

"What is it?"

"Is Alfred mad at me, too? I _was_ riding bareback that day at Seagull Rock, and you know how he hates it when I…"

I couldn't believe it. Bruce actually looked like he was going to burst out laughing! However, he promptly returned to his usual serious attitude and merely said, "Go to sleep, Dick."

I closed my eyes. And this time, I kept them closed.

* * *

**Me: Okay, I know Friday isn't the day that I usually update my stuff (Saturday or Sunday are my days), but since I've been getting death threats from my reviewers, I figured it would be safer to update a bit earlier.**

**Dick: Death threats?**

**Me: Yeah. Take a look. (shows him the reviewer page)**

**Dick: That's a good idea. If you kill me off, then I'll kill you off.**

**Me: HOW? You'd be DEAD.**

**Dick: ...I have my ways...**

**(Suddenly looks really nervous, like that time when she watched part of the torture scene from _Marathon Man _right before going to the orthodontist. Which is a really bad idea, by the way, although if you wanted to get revenge on somebody, that's a great way to do it.)**

**Me: I wish you wouldn't say that, Rob.**

**Dick: Let me say it again then...**

**Me: (runs off in terror)**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**Alexnandru Van Gordon-**You have a point there... POISON? You want me to be POISONED? Gee, I don't know if I want to talk to you anymore after that! ;-)

**Onthnis-**Don't worry, Panamint has no intention of letting this story go without an update for two weeks ever again. Have fun on your vacation!

**kokomocalifornia-**Thanks for reading her stuff, and the plot twist and all that sinister stuff comes later (I wasn't really supposed to tell anybody that, but who cares?)

**Mysterious Jedi-**Africa? Whoa. That sounds like it's going to be an interesting trip. 8) And I've always been rather partial to the 'reconciliation' chapters, too. For obvious reasons.

**60's-bat-fan-**Well, judging by the way I'm talking to you right now, Panamint must really value her life. And she REALLY hopes that this update was quick enough for you!

**Cry me Tears-**Hey, good for you! I've been waiting for ages to hear somebody say something like that to TAP. Congratulations, and here's the update.


	9. Chapter 9

**_Your Cheatin' Heart_**

**_Chapter Nine_**

**DISCLAIMER: I own the judge. And the bad guys. And Bruce and Dick's horsies! (grins) I always wanted a horse... ah-hem... anyway, the rest of them belong to Time/Warner. Or DC Comics. Or FOX. Well, they belong to one of those, anyway... XP I think the _characters_ belong to DC Comics and the _TV show_ partially belongs to all three. Which is why they won't release it on DVD yet. (sob)**

* * *

The trial resumed the next morning. It went quickly and ended with the obvious results—Tracie and June Silvers were convicted of first-degree murder, attempted murder and robbery of over three million dollars in cash and precious jewels. They were both sentenced to life imprisonment. 

But don't forget: I was still facing charges of aiding and abetting.

The judge told me to stand up. He was a real mean-looking old guy. With my luck, he was probably the hanging judge. But I did like he said, fervently hoping that the floor would open up and swallow me. It didn't.

"Now," he said. "While it is true that you were willingly going to allow the defendants to escape unscathed, the jury has decided that you did not do this out of malice, nor did you do it out of a desire to help the defendants."

Sheesh, even I could have said that.

The judge continued, but in a slightly kinder tone: "You did what you felt you had to, and you did it out of love and to protect someone you truly cared about, even at your own expense. Richard, the jury has found you to be a brave, compassionate young man, and in light of these facts, this court has hereby granted you a full pardon for your actions."

He smiled at me, and I couldn't help but smile back, feeling at least five feet taller than I really was. I thanked the judge and then sat back down upon his orders, still grinning like an idiot. Although I felt like shouting aloud, I could only cheer mentally. So I did—_Yippee!_

But the best part? Maybe it was just my imagination, but when I looked over at Bruce to see his reaction, I thought I saw pride in his eyes.

My joy was rather short-lived, however. It was time to say good-bye to Tracie and, although he hid his emotions well (as he always did), I could tell that Bruce was not happy about this. Who would be? I myself was feeling pretty low as well.

We approached their table, where a couple of officers were handcuffing the Silvers sisters and preparing to take them to the jailhouse next door. June gave me a rotten look that screamed 'I'll get you' as she passed. Luckily, we would be heading back to Gotham City in a week or so and would never have to see her again.

Saying good-bye to Tracie wasn't as easy, however. We had all grown to know and love her over the past summer, yet I couldn't really bring myself to feel sorry for her. She had tried to kill Bruce—that had instantly cut her out of my heart forever.

I'll never forget what Bruce and Tracie said to each other just before the officers took her away:

"Well," she started, not looking at him directly. "I guess this is it."

"Yes."

Neither spoke for a few seconds before Tracie began again in a tearful voice, "Oh, Bruce, I'm so sorry! I never meant for it to turn out this way—I honestly thought things could work out between us. I really thought June was dead… but then she showed up and everything began spinning out of control and…" Tracie stopped short. "And I owe you an apology too, Dick. You weren't supposed to get hurt."

Boy did I want to say something to that. Did she honestly think that I wouldn't have been hurt by Bruce's murder? So what if it would have been an emotional wound instead of a physical one? It would have been a hundred times worse than being shot! Even several months after the fact, I still shudder to think about what might have been.

But I decided to be tactful and just nod. Or rather, Alfred gave me a discreet (but very painful) poke in the ribs and FORCED me be tactful.

"Tracie," said Bruce, once again using that deadly tone he usually reserved for his nights as the Batman. "I can forgive you for trying to rob me, and even for trying to murder me. But hurting Dick… _that_ is something I can never forgive you for."

I stood there, staring up at Bruce with shock evident in my face. It just barely registered that Tracie had nodded her head in resignation and was being led away by prison guards down the same route June had taken only moments before.

As soon as she was out of sight, Bruce slowly turned to face me. He looked at me for a minute before brushing past and heading out the door.

I could have sworn he smiled at me.

* * *

**Me: (checks number of reviews) Hey, it looks like people are losing interest in me.**

**Dick: What makes you say that?**

**Me: Some of them have stopped reviewing. (instantly suspicious) You didn't offend anybody in the replies, did you?**

**Dick: Heck no! Why would I do that?**

**Me: To get revenge on me for the time I dumped Adam and Little Joe in Lake Tahoe! And when I broke 006's paw in one of my original works! And-**

**Dick: Ah-HA! So you CONFESS! Just wait until Starfleet hears about this. You're toast.**

**(Panamint sticks an old sock in his mouth, ties him to a chair and has Denny the tribble do the replies instead so Dick can't tattle.)**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**Mysterious Jedi-**Thanks for the review! Yes, I guess Bruce and Spock are both kind of strange. But that's what makes them such interesting characters.

**Onthnis-**Thank you! Don't worry: Dick will stay safe for a while yet... well, he WOULD have if he wasn't tied to the stupid chair...

**kokomocalifornia-**Thanks for everything, and I hope you had a great weekend too! 8)

**60's-bat-fan-**Oh, no, plenty more where that came from! And if you ever want to sock it to TAP, I know several friends who will be more than happy to help! Thanks for including that in your review, I've been looking for a chance to do something evil to Panamint...

**Herald Tamara-**Thank you! XD


	10. Chapter 10

_**Your Cheatin' Heart**_

_**Chapter Ten**_

**DISCLAIMER: Anybody who so much as THINKS I could own these characters has got to be way off their nut. Look what I'm writing, for Pete's sake!**

**Okay, sorry for the little delay, but I've been busy (watching the Hardy Boys, LOL). And I've also been pret-ty reluctant to post this chapter. For soon-to-be-obvious reasons. (begs on hands and knees) Please don't kill me! Please? I wrote this with the best intentions!**

* * *

Later that week, I was back in my room at the beach house, packing my belongings. It was time to go home, and for once I was glad. This was one time I was relieved the summer was over. Maybe school would help get my mind off… things… 

At least my arm was almost completely healed. It was still sore, but just a little bit. And soon, the doctors said I'd regain full use of it.

That didn't mean I was going to be perfectly healthy just as quickly. Because it was so hot that day, I had decided to take my shirt off while packing. Bad move. About a half-hour later, I had gone into the bathroom to collect my toothbrush and such. That was when I really saw myself for the first time since the shooting.

I gasped slightly upon first glance. There was a small scar on my left shoulder, thanks to the bullet that had gone in there. But the worst part was the fact that I somewhat resembled the skeleton that hung in my biology class. It actually scared me to a certain degree. I knew I had always been on the very light side of 'lightweight', but that stay in the hospital had put me past 'lightweight' and well into 'emaciated'.

Someone knocked on my bedroom door. I almost literally dove for my shirt and hastily began to button it back up. I couldn't let anyone see me looking like that—if it was Alfred, he'd command that I eat something at once, even though we'd just finished lunch and I wasn't at all hungry. If it was Bruce… well, I didn't really know _what_ he'd do. And I didn't think I wanted to know. Ever. Although, now that I think of it, they probably already knew. Those two know _everything._

"Come in!" I said.

The door opened. It was Bruce.

"Almost finished packing yet?" he asked.

"Um, yeah."

To prove it, I stuck another pair of pants in the suitcase, then shut and locked it. Yes, we actually have locks on our suitcases. When you're guardian is a multi-millionaire, you really need the things. Although it's really annoying because I'm constantly forgetting the combination to open it again.

"Well, since it seems you have nothing to do, how about going for a quick ride before we leave? Maybe that'll help put some color back in your cheeks—you still look like your own ghost."

_You have no idea!_

I instantly perked up, recognizing the concern behind the sarcasm.

"Sure!" I agreed enthusiastically. Then my face fell as I remembered what happened the last time I had gone riding.

"But can we skip the log jump?" I added softly, somewhat embarrassed. "I… I don't think I can…"

My voice trailed off, but Bruce seemed to understand and nodded.

"I'll be waiting for you outside."

"Sure."

With that, Bruce left the room and went to saddle his own horse. I suddenly felt a whole lot better than I had in ages. Who cared if it was just Bruce, Alfred and me again? We'd been going on like that for ages, and I liked it—we didn't really need someone else anyway.

A few minutes later, I had hurried down the stairs as fast as I could (it could have been quicker if I had slid down the banister, but it was too flimsy to hold anything and I knew I'd end up in the hospital again if I tried it).

I was almost at the front door when I suddenly tripped over some unseen object and wound up sprawled on the floor. I wasn't hurt—just got the wind knocked out of me.

_Geez, could you get any klutzier? That's the third time this week!_

Still sitting on the floor, I turned around to see what I had tripped over. Judging by the way the corner of the rug was turned over, that had been the cause of my downfall. I fixed the carpet, still grumbling, and then headed out the door.

I found that Bruce was standing just outside the stable doors, holding both our horses by the reins. I grinned and mounted Rainforest.

We started our ride by Sunset Rocks. I tried not to think about the fact that I had plotted my own murder there and just enjoyed the view of the ocean instead. It seemed much prettier now that I wasn't worried about the Silvers sisters.

A few minutes later and we were riding again—not as fast as I would have liked, though, so I gave Rainforest a gentle kick to go faster.

No more than five seconds later…

"Slow down!"

That was Bruce's voice. I reined in and asked what was wrong.

"Dick, you just got out of the hospital. I don't think you're quite ready to be going that fast yet."

'Overprotective' was the first word that sprang to mind. But I guess I wouldn't have it any other way, even if it _did_ annoy the heck out of me.

"Fine," I sighed.

We hadn't gone very far after that when I suddenly reined in a second time. We had arrived at the cliff. The one with the overhang that protected June's hide-out.

Terrible memories flashed through my mind: overhearing the conversation in Tracie's room… the nightmares that followed… the arguments I had had with Bruce… the—

"Dick!"

I snapped to attention.

"Did you say something?"

"What's wrong? You looked sick for a minute there."

Ah, yes. Bruce didn't know that June had been staying a mere twentyyards from where we stood. And I intended to keep it that way.

"It's nothing. Just… can we go back now? I'm feeling a little tired."

"Of course."

We both turned the horses around and headed back to the house. I tried to chase the foul thoughts from my mind, but it wasn't easy. I tried remembering something nicer, like the time Bruce first taught me how to ride a horse. Actually, I had already known how to ride, but doing handstands on a saddle-less mount apparently wasn't Bruce's idea of riding…

A single shot was fired, and the next thing I knew, Bruce had been gunned down. It was such a shock that I almost didn't grasp what had just happened.

I tried to say something, to _move_ even, but I found myself frozen in place, even as his horse ran off in a panic.

_Not again… please, not again… _I thought helplessly. _I couldn't stand it if I lost a father all over again… please, no… no… please, not again…_

Someone was laughing. It was a female voice, one that was laughing, laughing to the point of insanity. The Joker himself couldn't have done a better job.

Finally, I looked up. There, on the Sunset Rocks, stood June Silvers. She held a gun in her hand and had thrown her head back, laughing, laughing…

Enraged, I gave Rainforest a kick and rode over towards the rocks. At the base of the massive stones, I dismounted sloppily and began climbing them to get to June. I knew that there were probably more bullets in that gun and that she could easily shoot me, but this was just a subconscious thought. All that mattered was getting to June.

Nobody gets away with hurting Bruce. And I mean _nobody._

I don't know how I managed not to slip on the algae-covered rocks. I didn't even pause to think about that, either. I managed to make it, though, and continued to stalk towards her, fury blocking out every other emotion and every sensible thought.

It all happened so fast I didn't know what hit me. June had spotted me and, furious, struck me with the butt of the gun. I fell off Sunset Rocks and into shallow waters, dazed.

June leapt down onto the beach and was soon holding me down by my throat, effectively keeping my head underwater. I think she said something, but I couldn't hear with the water rushing past my ears. And even if I had heard, I wouldn't have cared.

She was laughing at me again. Laughing that spiteful, unfeeling, insane laugh that made my blood boil.

I desperately gasped for air and just wound up swallowing a whole mouthful of water. I attempted to cough it up, but just wound up swallowing more seawater. Holding by breath didn't work either, because there was no breath left to hold. Little bright spots began appearing before my eyes, and I suddenly felt terribly woozy. I was drowning. But that wasn't where my thoughts lay.

_She's not going to get away with this._

I thought of Bruce's body, lying spread-eagle on the sand. Unmoving, lifeless… that made me even more upset and, just as I felt the life being choked out of me, I found the strength to push June off me. She landed back on the sand with an 'oomph'. Without even bothering to catch my breath or to cough up all the seawater I had swallowed, I leapt forward and reversed the positions.

The hands around her neck were my own, and she was the one frantically trying to get me off of her. But my pure rage gave me the extra strength to prevent her escape.

I'd never attacked a woman before, and I especially had never tried to strangle one. But the only thing I could think of was the fact that she had just murdered the one man who had understood me, the one man who had always been there for me and had always stood up for me, no matter what.

I squeezed so hard that my knuckles turned white before my very eyes. June began making strange, choking noises as she tried to breathe. Somehow, in my madness, that sound was oddly satisfying. I didn't realize at the time that I was killing her. My mind was clouded by feelings of anguish and sorrow, blocking all thoughts except one: she had killed my best friend. She had killed him… my best friend… my father…

Several pairs of hands grabbed me by the arms and pried me away from the half-conscious woman. I didn't even know or wonder who they were. All my thoughts were focused on one thing and one thing only.

"_She killed him! She killed him!_" I screamed over and over again, still fighting hard. I was infuriated at my inability to get to her. I had to get to her, to do something that would relieve me of these awful feelings swirling around my heart.

Someone was yelling at me to stop it. I ignored him and continued to scream at the top of my lungs, even as my voice began to get scratchy and hoarse:

"_She killed him! Murderer! She killed him!" _

I don't know when I began to cry. I remember being held tightly as I sobbed on the verge of hysteria. I didn't know who the person was, although I could probably make an educated guess and say it was Alfred.

My shouts had died down into heartbroken whispers. The temporary insanity had vanished, and the events of the past five minutes were truly beginning to sink in.

Five minutes. Such a short amount of time, but that was all it had taken for my entire world to be turned upside-down. It was as if everything that had ever mattered to me was crumbling away at an alarming rate. I wanted to stop that crumbling. I wanted to run away, far away, and never come back. I wanted to just curl up in a ball and die. I wanted to do something—anything—that would help me forget…

**_To Be Continued…_****_

* * *

_**

**Me: HA! Weren't expecting THAT, were you? Just please no flaming, I know that the odds of this ever happening are absolutely zero, but I just... I don't know. I thought it sounded cool. :P Oh yeah, and um... hehe... well, Dick just read it and he, uh... well, let's just say that he's no longer on speaking terms with me.**

**Denny: Serves you right, you meanie!**

**Me: Yeah, whatever. Anyway, Part Two will probably take a little while to get up, because there are still some major plot gaps to fill in. Plus I have inspiration for half a dozen other stories, and I'm sure I'll think of more pretty soon, AND all of my school work. (growls) School stinks. :-P**

**Denny: I suppose you'll be wanting me to do the replies now.**

**Me: Yes, that was basically what I had in mind.**

**Denny: Well, TOO BAD!**

**(grabs some Bat-gas and sprays it on Panamint. It does the job it's meant to and the evil author promptly slumps over)**

**Denny: Good! Now I think I'll go make Little Joe do the replies...**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**Alexnandru Van Gordon-**Thanks for the review! And that's okay, I believe you. From what Dick has told me, this website has a tendency to go wacky once in a while. Just for the record, Panamint is currently working on a completely different 'little Dick' story, but it may take a few dozen centuries for her to finish, at the rate she's going... :-P

**:)-**Yeah, me too. And I know for a fact that Dick agrees as well, although he's too stubborn to ever admit it.

**kokomocalifornia-**We're really glad you're enjoying this story. Even though Panamint is a bit of a jerk, she works hard. When she feels like it, that is.

**60's-bat-fan-**Hey, thanks for reviewing! And thanks for suggesting that Denny use the Bat-gas on TAP. It worked like a charm!


End file.
